


Trapped in Someone Else's Dream

by FeelingFredly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Explicit Language, Feral Derek Hale, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bites, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Typically DubCon Trope Making a Consensual Effort, Werewolf Mates, background petopher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: Chris had warned him.  Chris-mother-fucking-Argent had warned him, and he still hadn’t managed to avoid the hunters.  Well, that wasn’t exactly true… he could have avoided them, but that would have meant leading them back to their base, and he wasn’t doing that.Derek is trapped by hunters, drugged, feral...  and afraid he's going to be set free to take the one thing he's wanted more than anything else in his world: Stiles.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 22
Kudos: 658





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a darker than my usual stuff, so, handle with care. Angst ahoy! 
> 
> Due to popular demand, there is now a Chapter 2, because apparently-- _Cliff-hangers/open-endings are *bad* Fred. Very, very bad!_

Chris had warned him. Chris-mother-fucking-Argent had warned him, and he _still_ hadn’t managed to avoid the hunters. Well, that wasn’t exactly true… he could have avoided them, but that would have meant leading them back to their base, and he wasn’t doing that.

He and Stiles had been tracking this group for three months, the stench of their hatred and lust for killing leaving a trail through the desert that was unmistakable. The hunters killed any supernatural they came across, and any human that got in their way, and even the Hunter’s Council had declared them _personas non gratis_ , not that it meant much. They’d found more than enough support to keep them going, every time leaving a group behind that simply shook their heads and said they’d never heard of those people, even as communities were burying their human dead. _The Code_ had never meant less as far as Derek was concerned, and that was saying something.

“Ah, good, good,” a cheerful voice cut through his reverie, “someone’s finally awake. I was beginning to worry that you’d gone past sedated into comatose, but nope, those Hale genes are just as potent as ever.”

Derek just shook his head a little, trying to clear the last of the haze, but there was something wrong. It wasn’t like last time he’d woken in this cage. His wolf wouldn’t settle, and he could feel it pacing in the back of his mind, waiting for an opportunity to surface.

“You feel it?” The man came a little closer and Derek got a good look at him for the first time. Late thirties. Good-looking in a stringy kind of way, with dirty blond hair and a few days of whiskers, except for the toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth, he would have looked totally at home on a beach or a farm or a basketball court looking for a pickup game. The perfect face to blend into a crowd. A perfect hunter.

He shifted his weight in the cage, careful to avoid the bars in case they were electrified. He’d learned that mistake earlier. Settling into a casual looking position, kneeling up on his heels in a bastardized seiza that would let him shoot up quickly if he got the opportunity, he eyed his captor. The man was attentive, like he was watching for something, but there was no way to know exactly what without more information. He sighed. One thing he’d learned from Stiles over the past few years was that you couldn’t get information from the bad guys if they weren’t talking, and since he couldn’t follow his first instinct and just rip the guy’s head off, at least he could keep him talking. Luckily, the Spark wasn’t here to see it—he’d never let Derek live it down. “Whatever floats your boat. I know! I bet you’re looking for a review to post on Yelp. How about this? _Accommodations leave something to be desired. 1/10, would not recommend._ A little harsh, perhaps, but for things like this it’s better just to get to the point. Rip the band-aid off fast.”

The hunter made a disapproving noise. “And here I was told that you were the quiet one. Clearly, our information needs to be updated.”

Derek rolled his head trying to loosen his shoulders, but he couldn’t get the muscles to relax. “No, your information’s right. I am the quiet one.” That got him a look. “Believe it or not, the others are worse. Chris—oh, that’d be Chris Argent, you might know the name?” The hunter stiffened a little and Derek nodded. “Right, that’s what I thought. But Chris told me that he had fantasies about how to make Peter be quiet, but I stopped him right there. I mean I get the impulse—I’ve met Peter, after all—but I don’t need to know details about their private time. Boundaries are important.”

His hands were free. There was something wrong with that. They’d been bound the last time he’d woken. Why would they have cut him loose? When did they do it? He rubbed his wrists, the faint burn from the wolfsbane-soaked rope still itching on his skin. He was healing; there was something really wrong with that.

“Argent should’ve been the one to die instead of his wife.” There was a viciousness under the casual tone, and Derek didn’t think he was imagining the glimmer of hatred aimed at him in particular. Great. A fan of Victoria’s, probably blaming him for her death. None of the hunters ever questioned the whole suicide thing. They made no sense. “The fact that he’s screwing a wolf instead of killing them is one of the reasons we’re here today.”

Derek was beginning to feel more like Stiles with every passing moment. Apparently, he was expected to be some sort of message for the Argents in general, and probably for Chris specifically. Better and better.

“Clearly, you know each other, so, I’m sure he’d be happy to speak to you. If you grab my phone—you still have my phone, right? He’s number three on my speed dial. You could tell him whatever you wanted to, hunter to hunter. No need for all these theatrics.” He waved a hand at the bloody cage floor and tables of weapons.

Derek rubbed his forehead—he was sweating. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn’t seem to stop. His wolf was getting louder, calling for Stiles, wanting the Spark, needing to see him. Maybe that was why he couldn’t shut up—he was channeling his inner Stilinski. That was a terrifying thought.

He dragged his hands along the tops of his thighs and hissed when he realized that at some point he’d popped claws and had torn through his jeans and scored through the top few layers of skin leaving furrows bleeding sluggishly as his body tried to heal the self-inflicted injuries.

“I don’t have anything to say to him that you can’t say for me, Hale,” the hunter shook his head, a smug look on his face. “Anyway, I think your delivery will make a little more impact than a phone call from little ol’ me. You see, he and I never really saw eye to eye after he stole Vic from me. And now she’s gone, and he’s decided that he likes his loyal dogs better than the hunters that saved his life, time and time again. It ain’t right, and he knows it, but he’s been dodging paying the piper so long I think he’s forgotten just how much of a debt he owes. So, this is me sending him a final notice, if you will. His bill has come due, and you are going to be the first installment in his payment plan.”

Derek fought down a wave of shivers, he was sweating more now, and he tried to focus on the hunter, but it was almost impossible over the whining of his wolf. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to losing control. He wanted to snarl, to howl, to pace the cage.

“Killing me won’t make him happy,” he said, trying to make the words come out clearly around his fangs, “but I’m the wrong Hale to be targeting if want to actually hurt him.”

The blond sidled up to the cage with a look on his face that said he knew something Derek didn’t. He didn’t like that look at all.

“Oh, no,” he said, entirely too pleased with himself, taking the toothpick and pointing it at him, “you’re exactly the right place to start, because you… you are the wolf pining after a human mate. A human _pack member_.” Derek couldn’t stop the snarl. “No, no, don’t try to deny it. Everybody knows that the youngest Hale is smitten with the Sheriff’s son. _The boy that runs with wolves_. Argent might have a soft spot for wolves, or maybe just for Hales in particular, but even he wouldn’t be able to stop the hunters rising up to take down a pack that turned on its own token human. A wolf-mate is supposed to be sacred—protected by the pack—and I’m going to rip that right out from under him, make him watch that boy dying at his feet as he bleeds out from wounds inflicted by his very own sweetheart, his _Sourwolf_.” The man shuddered dramatically. “Just gives me chills thinking about it. Can you imagine what it’ll do to him to have to put you down? How _his mate_ will take it that an Argent has killed another one of his remaining family members? You think he won’t look at Chris and see Kate and Gerard in him? No, that zombie bastard will turn on him so fast it’ll make his silver-head spin, and then it’ll be kill or be killed, and I will have ripped his heart out or your dear Uncle Peter will have ripped his throat out. Win/win if you ask me.”

Derek couldn’t control the impulse, flinging himself at the bars of the cage, roaring at his captor, wanting nothing more than to get his hands around the man’s throat so he could strangle the words that were spilling from his mouth.

“You don’t know anything, hunter,” he spat the words out, “I would _die_ before I hurt Stiles, so you might as well just kill me here, because the minute you turn your back it’s over. I will find a way to end you.”

The hunter laughed. There was no fear in his scent. He smelled of… _satisfaction_.

“Oh, but you see, I know something you don’t. I know you realized that you’d been cut loose earlier. You had to wonder why.” Derek just glared at the man, blue eyes blazing in the shadowed cage. “One of my friends is something of a scientist, you see, and while he’s a good hunter, what he really likes to do is cook up a little bit of fun on the side. Meth. A little X. Just stuff that folks use to take the edge off. So, one day he was thinking… what if he could come up with something that affected ‘wolves like that? Something that calmed them right down. Might make them easier to kill, right?”

The blond moved around the side of the cage and pulled something off a nearby table. A syringe. _Shit_.

“He came to me and I got him the things he needed to work on his little experiment, and what do you know? It worked. Now, I’ll be honest, it didn’t work the way he’d expected. Sedation wasn’t the outcome, but it did something. Something amazing! It boiled away the human parts of the wolf almost entirely. Nothing was left but the animal. Then, he added a little something-something for kick, and then you had an incredibly _horny_ animal. With super strength and super speed. An animal that would fuck the first thing it could catch right into the ground. Didn’t matter if they were screaming or dying or bleeding out—because by that time, most of them were, I have to admit—the wolf just kept at it until the drug burned itself out of its system. Initially, I thought it would be the way to unite the humans against the animals—drug the whole lot of you and when you turned on the people around you have them all see you for what you really were. The problem was that my friend could never get the formula just right after that first batch, so I had to figure out how to get the most bang for my buck.”

 _Thank Mother Moon_ was all Derek could think. They didn’t have an endless supply of whatever this crap was. Still, if he’d been injected with it, what was that going to do to him? What was he going to turn into?

“The tendency for a wolf to go after their mate first was just a lucky discovery—serendipity, if you will—and then… I had my plan. I needed either you or your dear sweet uncle to put it in play, and you were just so helpful, chasing me across the desert until. I. Caught. You.”

He leaned in and Derek lunged, managing to get one swipe through the bars before the blond jerked back. “Hoo-ee, you do move fast. That’s good. That means you’re almost up to speed. Once you burn enough of the wolfsbane out of your system the rest of the drug should kick in nicely.”

Derek felt a spurt of panic as he realized that the sweating from earlier was probably him burning through the first stages of whatever he’d been injected with. Plus, the longer he’d been sitting, the itchier he felt, like his skin didn’t fit. His heart was racing, and there was an ache building low in his belly, his cock beginning to press against the zipper of his jeans, and he howled into the ether.

“There it is. Right on schedule. Now—I have a present for you.” The hunter sauntered across the room and opened a zipper bag. The instant he pulled the flap up Derek recognized the scent—Stiles. The bastard had one of Stiles’s hoodies, and he tossed it into the cage at the wolf’s feet.

“I know it isn’t like giving a bloodhound a scent to track, but it should do the trick. Doesn’t the wolf want to come out and play? Doesn’t it want its _mate_? I bet you can almost taste him, can’t you.”

Derek held the fabric up to his face and breathed in the scent of musk and mate and he could feel his wolf rising to the surface. **Fuck**. The wolf was maddened by the scent. It forced itself to the front of his consciousness, past every barrier Derek had ever learned, and he could feel himself losing the battle for control. Drugged and feral and howling to be free, it ached to satisfy the hunger riding it. The wolf scented Stiles, smelled his unclaimed mate, and Derek curled forward over his knees as his breath caught, swamped by the overwhelming possessiveness that boiled through him, incandescent and indecent. The call, denied for so long and yet undeniable, was overwhelming and again his wolf threw itself, snarling and snapping, against the chains of Derek’s control, howling his wants into the echoing darkness of his mind. **Hold him down and lick him open. Stab his pretty hole with our tongue, stab him with our _cock_. Make him beg. Make him cry. Make him come all over himself. Pull his hair and fuck his mouth and stripe his face with come until he smells like us, tastes like us, _aches_ for us… fuck, _fuck, FUCK_. My mate. Mine. _MINE_.** The hunter smirked, listening to him mutter and whine. “You’re just about ready, aren’t you, mutt?” Derek growled and retreated to the farthest corner of his cage. “Ready to tear your throat out.”

  
The hunter snorted. “With your teeth, right?” The bastard shook his head, that God-forsaken toothpick still dangling from the corner of his mouth. “You’d think after a hundred years you fuzzy bastards would get some new material, but no. It’s like a broken record. Gonna kill you, hunter bastard. Rip your throat out, with my teeth. Shit. I’ll be honest, it lost its kick the third or fourth time I heard it. Right before I cut those wolves loose on their nearest and dearest, and then stood back and watched them eat the hearts out of the chests of the ones they swore they’d protect.” Derek’s wolf thrashed against his control, howling for Stiles, howling for his mate, and he knew that if he caught him there was no telling what kind of damage he’d do in this feral form. He could only hope that Stiles hadn’t stuck around after getting loose, but knowing Stiles… yeah, that wasn’t likely. Whatever happened though, he was going to kill this man. And yes, he was going to rip his throat out— ** _with his fucking teeth_**.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because so many people told me they wanted to see what happened next: here's what happened next! For the record, this totally got away from me. What was supposed to be an angsty little vignette turned into a sexy, sprawling monster of a quasi one-shot. I know that a lot of these drugged/feral fics have some consent issues, but I tried to keep it as consensual as I could. That being said, if you're particularly sensitive to the subject, remember to be careful with yourself! There are lots of fics that don't tread anywhere near the issue, and they might be better suited for you. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!

“It doesn’t make sense, Chris,” Stiles muttered into the phone. “I just watched two trucks pull out. All six of the hunters we’ve been tracking were inside, and if I wasn’t hallucinating, one of them fucking _waved_ at me as they drove away.”

“Any sign of Derek?” Chris asked, voice soft, and he sighed. Derek and the hunter had a complicated relationship, but no one could say they weren’t invested in the other’s well-being. It just so happened that they had a _no one gets to kill him but me_ relationship. Stiles understood. No one got to take a shot at Peter but _him_.

“No. They were only carrying one cage and it was visible and empty. If they have him,” Stiles forced the words out, “if they _had_ him, they left him and the second cage behind.”

He rubbed at his chest, an ache like live coals burned behind his sternum. The thought of Derek caged, hurt, maybe worse… it made his spark rage.

“That’s a good sign,” the hunter muttered something away from the phone, probably explaining things to Peter. Zombiewolf was just as much of a control freak as Stiles; sitting and waiting was probably killing him. Again. “If they left the cage behind, then Derek’s probably still in it and healthy enough to be considered a threat.”

It didn’t sit right. “Or it’s a trap.”

Chris let out a huff of air. “Oh, it’s definitely a trap. The question is whether Derek’s the prize or the bait.”

It was hard to believe, but in some ways Stiles had become a bigger target than the remaining Hales. Things had changed over the past two years. The pack of Hales and Hunters were known throughout the supernatural world and there were always going to be people who wanted to eliminate the threat they posed to the existing Hunter hierarchy, but Stiles’s spark had become something of an urban legend. They called him the Spark of the Burned, the Boy That Runs With Wolves, but after he’d literally turned a hunter inside-out to prevent them from killing Lydia, he’d earned himself a hefty bounty on his head, with or without his packmates.

“Great,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “The perils of popularity.”

“Peter says he’s managed to charter a flight that’ll get us there in six hours.” Stiles appreciated the fact that he didn’t bother to say to wait for them. “You have your tracker still?”

“Two. I have the standard one in the heel of my boot, and I swallowed the extra ten minutes ago.” He’d choked the little bastard down as soon as he saw the trucks leaving. They’d had too many fights where their external trackers were found or accidentally destroyed. Swallowing one wasn’t a great plan because it would just make them kill you faster if they decided it was important to dig it out and destroy it, but Stiles figured it was better to run the odds that they’d be out from under the hunters’ eyes quickly, and the tracker would just help with finding them in the desert before they died of exposure if they had to run.

They truly lived charmed lives.

“I’m going dark now,” he said, taking a deep breath and focusing on his spark. “I’ll see you all when you get here. Bring the wolfsbane collection and a blowtorch just in case.”

Chris passed along the request and Stiles heard Peter say. “You always throw the best parties, sweetheart.”

He thought about Derek and hoped they had something to celebrate. Soon.

***

Six more inches. The door had opened six more inches.

Derek growled and yanked on the cage door, but at this point he didn’t know if he was trying to speed it up or slow it down. As long as he was in the cage Stiles was safe, but his wolf wanted out of the cage, howled to be free, snarling and snapping, and he caught himself as he threw himself against the bars again, his wolf not willing to wait quietly for the hunter’s automatic door opener to finish working.

**_Out, out, out!_** The wolf had to get _out_. Had to find Stiles. Had to _find him and fuck him and mark him and mate him._

No. Derek bit into his own arm until he drew blood. He couldn’t let the drugs drive him like this. He had to stay in control. Stay. Stay in. **_In, in, in_**. Had to stay in the cage. Let the hunters come back if they wanted. Let them burn him and cut him. Anything so he didn’t put Stiles in danger. His mate was safe and to stay that way, Derek needed to stay in the cage, stay in the dark, stay away, stay, stay, stay… he’d waited years, he’d wait forever.

Derek knew it wouldn’t last, though. Stiles would come. Stiles always came. He was as constant as the moon, his need to save his pack as strong a pull as the tide.

The wolf howled and Derek looked down. He’d clawed through the meat of his thighs, shredding his jeans, so he just shucked off the tatters. His skin was burning; his cock was aching where it pressed against his belly. He didn’t know how long he’d been hard, but he could feel every beat of his heart in skin that was stretched too taut, too thin. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be touched, to have Stiles’s hands on him, his mouth—God, Stiles’s _mouth_. He’d dreamed of that mouth so many times, but now it was almost too much to think about. The heat, the soft wetness, the agile tongue that never stopped… he didn’t want it to stop. Don’t stop. Never stop. Suck and lick and pull, dripping saliva down his length, wet and slick and hot and open, fuck that mouth, flex his fingers in that hair, hold his head, fuck his face, choke him, come in his mouth, on his face, fuck, mark, anything… _everything_.

Derek dug his claws into his skin again trying to keep the wolf under control. Pain worked some, but even that wasn’t enough to keep it quiet where it paced in the back of his mind. The growling, the howling, the whining, keening cry he couldn’t keep behind his too sharp teeth. The animal was winning, and Derek almost wished he could just pass out from the overstimulation, but there was no such mercy to be had. At first, he’d tried jacking himself off to relieve the need that was riding him. His hand was brutal against his skin as he stroked too hard and too fast, trying everything he could to find relief, but something about the drug wasn’t letting him reach his peak. Orgasm was there, just beyond his reach, but nothing he did brought it any closer. The only thing that brought him any comfort was burying his face in Stiles’s hoodie, the faint scent of his mate enough to dull the razor-sharp pain that was crashing through his body like waves of torment.

He knew his heart was racing, beating faster than he’d ever felt before, even faster than when he was suffering from yellow wolfsbane poisoning, and he knew his body couldn’t keep healing from that kind of stress. He just hoped that his heart would stop before Stiles found him. Derek would die either way, but at least Stiles would survive. That would be comfort enough. It had to be.

He dropped to his knees and held the red fabric up to his face, smothering himself in the last traces of Stiles that lingered on the cloth. He’d handled it too roughly, rubbed it against himself too much, and now it smelled more of Derek’s blood and desperation than the Spark. He grieved the loss, and he could feel tears coursing down his face thinking he’d never again smell the frankincense and ozone that permeated everything Stiles owned after so many rituals, never smell the sharp-sweet scent of his sweat, never smell the musk of his arousal. Never smell the iron tang of his blood coursing just under the thin skin of his throat.

He could almost smell it, longing so strong it was making him hallucinate the scent that haunted his dreams.

But no, it wasn’t a dream. It was too real. Too strong. He could smell Stiles. _Stiles!_

The wolf was done being denied, and Derek watched from a corner of his mind as his body thrashed and crashed against the cage, bruises blooming faster than they could heal, blood running from half a dozen self-inflicted gashes, and somehow he knew that would just make it worse when Stiles eventually found him. The wolf howled in the dim glow of the lone electric light.

Footsteps sounded, closer and closer, and the smell of Stiles got stronger. “Derek? Where are you? Derek? Come on man, howl again or something.”

Derek growled and shoved the sleeve of the hoodie into his mouth to try to muffle the sound. No, no, no. Stiles couldn’t be here. He looked down at the cage door; the automatic lift had raised it another three inches. Three more inches and he could crawl under it. Three more inches and he’d be free. Free to chase, to catch. Stiles would be right there, and Derek would have him, have him the way he’d always wanted him, have him to keep him, to hold him, to roll in his scent and bite into his skin. His Stiles. _His Spark. **His mate. His**_.

The noises came to an abrupt halt, and Derek looked up to see Stiles standing in the doorway, shirt torn and bloodied on one sleeve— _fucking hunters had hurt his Stiles, hurt his mate, he’d find them and kill them, tear them apart and leave the meat for the crows_ —and a look of beatific happiness on his face.

“Oh my God, you’re okay,” the Spark flew across the room, jumping over the cables and batteries and pipes that lay scattered on the floor. “What did they do to you, big guy?” Stiles was muttering as he took in the torture chamber around them. Derek was rumbling deep in his chest, his wolf still fully in control, and he had to fight just to get his lips to form the words needed to warn his mate of the danger looming over them both. He pressed himself against the back wall of the cage to get as far away from the Spark as possible.

“Drugged. Dangerous.” His fangs were fully extended, and his throat was raw from howling, but he knew Stiles heard him. “Go. Leave. _Now_.” He snarled the last words in full Alpha voice, feeling the grip he had on his control slipping away now that his mate was close enough to almost touch. To almost taste.

Stiles snarled back at him, human but unafraid. “Fuck you and your fucking martyr complex, Derek, I’m not leaving you here. You know better than to even say that.”

The Spark was running hot, his eyes glowing an unearthly amber-gold, and the wolf in him practically rolled in pleasure knowing that his mate was so powerful, that he wanted to protect him, that he wasn’t going to leave him in danger. Stiles was a perfect choice, a perfect partner. _Perfect_. He’d defend the pack. Support his Alpha. Kill any threats to the betas. Give him the best pups. Take his cock and his come and….. _Fuck._ Derek had to stop this. Somehow.

If he’d been more human, he’d have wept at the irony that _he_ was now the threat to his pack—to his mate—but he could only howl his frustrations. After a decade of trying, hunters were finally going to destroy him. His control snapped, and he dropped to the floor and started trying to push his way under the gate, the rough metal along the bottom tearing into the muscles of his shoulders as he tried to get out, to get closer to Stiles.

The Spark had stopped at the nearby table to look at the motor that was slowly opening his cage. In a flash he’d realized how wrong it was. It shouldn’t be set to release a ‘wolf. Ever. He looked back at Derek with horror on his face.

“Fuck, Sourwolf,” he shook his head, the wheels clearly still turning, “you said they drugged you? With what?”

Derek wasn’t able to answer. His wolf was completely in control. He managed to get his head under the gate and bared his fangs with a guttural grunt, eyes glowing red as he stared up at the Spark. “ _Mine_.”

“Hang on, big guy,” Stiles was trying to stop the gate lift, but it was too late. Derek was free.

***

Derek was okay. No, scratch that. Derek was alive, but not okay. Fully beta shifted and not in control in a way that Stiles had never seen before was clearly not okay, but whatever was wrong could be fixed because _DEREK WAS ALIVE_.

Now it was up to Stiles.

“Drugged. Dangerous.” The ‘wolf snarled at him, scrabbling against the bars of the cell, but not to get out, he was trying to get away from _Stiles_. “Go. Leave. Now!” The ‘wolf roared then, and Stiles could feel the Alpha command reverberate through his bones, but he wasn’t leaving the asshole like this. He would never leave Derek like this, and the man knew it.

“Fuck you and your martyr complex, Derek, I’m not leaving you here. You know better than to even say that.” He roared right back.

Hell no, he was _not_ leaving. They _saved_ each other. They were _partners_. They were… Stiles couldn’t even begin to quantify what they were, but nothing in their relationship allowed for _leaving_. Maybe that wasn’t the healthiest way to feel about someone, but after a lifetime of unreliability, Derek had become the bedrock of his world, and he was not about to lose him to some fucking hunter with a needledick and a God complex.

Derek had gone from pressing himself against the back of the cage to flailing and growling as he tried to squeeze under the rising lift-gate. There still wasn’t enough room, but that wasn’t stopping him—Stiles could see skin ripping across Derek’s shoulders as he shoved against the rough metal, and while he knew the wounds would heal, the ferocity with which the ‘wolf was throwing himself at the opening was stomach-turning.

Stiles stepped back to get a better look, flaring his spark a little to make sure there weren’t any nasty magical traps set, but no. It was all mundane. Horrible and torturous, but nothing more than human evil at play. It just didn’t make sense. In ten years, he’d never seen a hunter release a were voluntarily, especially not after they’d gone to the trouble of caging and torturing them. But this cage, clearly, was programmed to open. To release Derek. A clearly not himself, possibly drugged, semi-feral alpha…. 

“Fuck, Sourwolf,” he muttered, watching the born wolf struggling, lost to his wolf in a way that Stiles had never seen, because Derek had _never_ failed to control his shift. Never. “You said they drugged you? With what?”

Maybe letting Derek out of the cage right now wasn’t the best plan. Stiles looked around trying to find the power source for the lift, the mechanism that attached it to the gate, anything. Ah! There! He spotted the pulley system just above the cage just as Derek managed to squeeze himself under the bars with a satisfied grunt and a gravelly sounding, “ _Mine_.”

Something skittered around in Stiles’s belly at the sound, dark and wanting, but the look on Derek’s face stole any pleasure he might have had at the claim. Something was seriously wrong with the ‘wolf; he would never say that if he was in his right mind, no matter how good it sounded to Stiles, and a crazed alpha was not a safe alpha.

Stiles threw himself to the side just as Derek swung a meaty arm in his direction, the claws just missing his side.

“Derek! Come on, man!” He yelled back at the other man, trying to get through whatever was messing with his head. “Fragile human here. Watch the claws! And the teeth!”

He grabbed the top of the cage and hauled himself up until he was lying across its top, trying to put some space between himself and the two hundred pounds of grabby-handed werewolf chasing him.

Stiles stared at the glowing red eyes and tried to focus on anything other than the fact that Derek was stark naked and aroused, his clothes nothing but a pile of bloody rags topped by a splash of red that looked like the hoodie that had gone missing from Stiles’s bag at the hotel two nights before.

Well, that made the trap part of things clearer. All this time the hunters had been luring the hounds that had been tracking them. Which meant that Stiles was exactly where they wanted him. The question was why.

“Mine.” Derek grabbed the edge of the cage and lifted himself off the ground in an effortless pull-up that was unfairly impressive and any other time would have been sexy as hell, but right then Stiles just wanted him to back the fuck off.

“Yeah, you said that already, buddy,” he muttered as he scooted awkwardly across the bars trying to make sure he didn’t get caught in any of the gaps as he stayed out of arms’ reach. “Your what, though? Emissary? Sure. But as much as I enjoy a good back scratch, Der,” he looked at the razor-sharp claws the ‘wolf was wielding, “I’m going to have to opt out of the role of scratching post, just in case there was a question.”

Derek stared at him and Stiles could almost hear the frustrated huff. At least that part of him was the same. He growled, his speech slurring between dropped fangs. “Mine. My Stiles. _My mate_.” He pulled himself up in one smooth motion and landed in a crouch on the bars like an overgrown kid playing King of the Castle.

The possessive growl made Stiles shiver. Great. Derek was tripping on some psychotropic molly that made him think they were _mates_.

“Dude,” he started and the ‘wolf growled. Fine. “Derek. Alpha. I need you to focus. This thing you’re feeling isn’t real. I’m not your mate. The hunters…”

Derek roared and lunged, sweeping an arm out in a vicious bid to grab the Spark and pull him closer.

“Noooo! Mine. **_Mate_**.” The sound cut through the room, full of agony and longing, and Stiles gritted his teeth. He’d never hated anyone the way he hated the men who had done this. Derek had been fucked with by these psycho hunters his whole life. First, they’d taken his innocence, then his family, and now they’d fucked with his chances to have a real mate bond, forcing him to feel emotions that weren’t real. Forcing him, again, to want someone against his will. Stiles couldn’t think of anything more sadistic to do to someone who’d just gotten to the point of feeling like he had control of his own life.

Stiles would make them pay if it was the last thing he ever did. They would regret hurting his Alpha. He would see to it… _personally_.

His anger didn’t blind him to the immediate danger, though. He and Derek sparred regularly, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long if the older man got a grip on him. He couldn’t run and leave Derek loose, either—the hunters were going to come back at some point—and he couldn’t lead him out of the compound and run the risk that Derek would end up loose in civilization with no control or awareness that he shouldn’t be showing his wolfy good looks to the general population. Stiles’s only hope was keeping a little distance between them so he could use his spark to slow Derek down, keeping the werewolf’s attention on him until the drugs wore off. Oh, and hoping against hope that if he _did_ get caught his friend was somehow still aware enough of Stiles’s limitations to not to use his full strength against his puny human self. 

Stiles threw himself away from the grasping hand and dropped off the far side of the cage. He knew it wasn’t going to slow Derek down much, but it bought him a moment. He glanced back over at the liftgate mechanism and groaned. This was such a bad idea, but currently his choices were bad, worse, and oh fuck no. He focused his spark and threw a concentrated ball of power at the cable holding the liftgate up, while throwing himself _into_ the cage.

The gate slammed shut, barely missing Derek’s outstretched hand, and the ‘wolf raged at his prize being stolen from him. There was nothing holding the gate closed now except its weight, but that was going to have to be enough. Stiles reached into his pocket and pulled out a loop of spider-silk rope reinforced with his spark and coated in wolfsbane--the newest line of Stilinski created werewolf restraint. It was spelled to tighten at a word, and if he could somehow bind Derek’s hands with it, the rest should be easy. 

“Right,” he said, looking at the raving naked werewolf prying the door open like a can of tuna, “easy.”

He scuttled forward and grabbed Derek’s hands where he was gripping the gate, cupping his hands around the clawed fingers. “Der, stop! Please.”

Derek released the gate and in the next second Stiles was being hauled forward and pinned against the ‘wolf’s body, the bars crashing to the ground between them ignored. Red eyes drooped shut as the Alpha leaned in and sucked in a deep drag of Stiles’s scent, a subsonic rumble rolling through him.

“Need you,” he pulled Stiles’s arm through the bars and pressed his mouth against his wrist, dragging fangs against the tender skin, tongue leaving a scalding trail along the pulse point. “Waited so long.”

He sounded lucid, but the delusion was clearly still affecting him. “Sourwolf,” Stiles tried, curling his hands and gripping Derek’s fingers as tightly as he could. “Come on, I know you’re in there. I need you to focus. The drug is making you crazy. You have to hang on until you can burn through it. I know you can do it.”

The other man only grunted and rolled his hips, pressing his erection against Stiles’s fly through the gap in the bars. It was dark and angrily red, the tip glistening in the low light, and Stiles couldn’t imagine how painful it must be.

“That doesn’t look good, big guy.” He leaned forward, letting the ‘wolf rut against him, hating himself for watching, for noticing just how thick Derek’s cock was, how hot and hard. He hated not able to stop his ADHD brain from jumping through every salacious thought he’d ever had about the older man, and he’d had more than enough of them over the years. More than anything, he hated that it wasn’t real.

Derek groaned and shook his head like a wet dog, but his eyes were a little clearer. “Need to come. Hurts. Need you to touch me. Please.” That was all he managed before his eyes clouded again and he moved, faster than Stiles could follow, releasing one hand and slipping it behind the Stiles, pulling him even more tightly against the bars, the wolf clearly back in control as he growled out-- “ _Mine_. Mark you. Mate you. Fuck you. Keep you. Mine.”

It wasn’t fair. The words were everything Stiles wanted, but the sour stress smell of Derek’s sweat, his glassy eyes, the pain evident in every move he made, turned them into ashes. The ‘wolf was desperate for his mate, though, and he could provide that comfort, could pretend for Derek’s sake, even if it killed him inside.

“Yours. Always been yours, Der, just been waiting for you,” he tilted his head in submission, counting on the bars to keep Derek from just ripping into his neck and hoping that the Alpha was too far gone to recognize the truth in his words once the drug wore off. “Breathe deep, that’s right. Get a good sniff. I’m not going anywhere.”

Derek let out a low keening whine, sucking in air like a drowning man that had suddenly surfaced. “So good. Mate smells so good.” The words were practically unintelligible, but Stiles had a lot of experience interpreting fang-slur, and he breathed a little easier as Derek’s aggression faded with each lungful of Stiles’s scent.

What _wasn’t_ fading was his hard on. Stiles moved his free hand slowly towards Derek’s naked hip, slipping it between the bars and resting it on the dimple of his butt cheek, the brief contact causing the older man to jerk like he’d been electrified. He rutted forward, canting his hips and rubbing his pre-come dripping cock against any part of Stiles he could reach, a breathless chant of _yes, yes, mate, touch_ , _please, fuck, please_ hanging in the air between them.

“Derek?” Stiles tried to reach whatever part of his Alpha was still aware. “What do you need me to do? Can I… ?” He swallowed thickly, hissing as claws punctured the skin of his back. “Can I touch you?”

The ‘wolf didn’t answer with words, but the response was clear as Derek grabbed the hand Stiles had pressed against him and wrapped it around his cock. His skin was burning hot, hotter than normal, and the sound he made at the contact was equal parts agony and pleasure. He stared at the Spark, gaze as hot as his skin, hunger in every line of his face as he bucked into Stiles’s hand. “Going to fuck you until you scream. Mark you. Come all over you. Fill you up. Make you smell like mine.” The words sounded like they’d been dragged over shattered glass, rough and painful, and the alpha red of his eyes practically pulsed with power. Stiles figured that was as close to consent as he was going to get.

The hair at the base of Derek’s cock was trimmed short but was surprisingly soft on his knuckles. He rubbed the backs of his fingers against it lightly, teasing the skin there until the ‘wolf growled at him, clearly wanting him to get a move on.

“God, even like this you’re amazing,” Stiles murmured, overwhelmed with feeling as he slowly pumped his length, gathering the slick at the tip to smooth the stroke. The ‘wolf’s growl turned into a groan and his eyes fluttered—actually _fluttered_ —closed as he rocked into Stiles’s grip chasing his orgasm. “That’s right. We’re going to fix this. Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

The hand on his back flexed, fingers clenching, and he braced himself for the claws again, but Derek didn’t actually dig into the meat. That was an improvement.

Red eyes shut and fanged mouth open, Derek panted hotly into his face. He couldn’t ever remember seeing Derek so free of the thoughts that burdened him constantly, he was simply feeling and wanting and chasing his pleasure. Suddenly, all Stiles wanted was to see what he looked like when he was coming. The Spark sped up his movements, using his thumb to tease that sensitive spot under the flare of the crown, giving a little twist at the end just the way he liked to touch himself. They were both breathing heavily, the only thing keeping them apart a ton of steel gate.

The Alpha licked his lips and rested his forehead against the bars. Stiles listened as he started to mutter, the words punctuated by the slick slap of skin against skin. “Fuck, Stiles. Need so much. _Want so much_. Want to hold you down. Lick you open. Make you come on my fingers, on my cock. Fuck your face. Cover you in my come. My mate. _Mine_.” The last word twisted into a howl of satisfaction as ropes of hot white come spilled out over Stiles’s hand, the roar rattling his teeth as he squeezed harder making sure to pull every drop from Derek’s cock, trying valiantly to quell the attraction he felt for the ‘wolf in front of him and failing, terribly.

Like a storm had passed, when the waves of orgasm finished shuddering through him, Derek’s eyes opened and he was calmer, the Alpha red now just a thin ring around the iris. He looked at Stiles and the Spark saw recognition in the depths as he pulled his hands back through the bars shakily.

“You with me, dude?” Stiles asked, surreptitiously rubbing the come off his hand, not wanting to embarrass the other man more than was unavoidable.

Derek jerked his head, glancing around as awareness kicked in. “Stiles? How did you get into that cage? Did the hunters come back?”

Stiles reached out and rested his hand over Derek’s heart. It was racing and sweat was pouring off the ‘wolf. Whatever the hunters had dosed him with wasn’t just messing with his mind, it was doing a number on the rest of him as well.

“The hunters are gone, but they drugged you with something. We need to get you somewhere safe to let it run its course.”

Derek shook off his hand. “No, no, no. You need to put me back in the cage and get out of here. I’m dangerous! I’m going to hurt you if you stay here.”

Stiles groaned. “We already went through this. I’m not leaving you. Whatever this stuff is, it looks like it’s mitigated when you get off, so, we’ll just keep…” his voice trailed off and he waved his hand to imply _getting Derek off_ , but the Alpha wasn’t listening.

“You don’t understand. The stuff they gave me… it’s making my wolf crazy. Feral. I don’t know how you managed to push it back, but it isn’t going to last. I can feel the need to…”

“Fuck someone?” Stiles asked, deciding that now wasn’t the time for niceties. “Yeah, you made that pretty clear.”

“Not just _someone_ ,” Derek growled at him, frustrated, and losing control, “my _mate_. It’s trying to force me to claim my mate and it’s building again, like a burning under my skin. They want me to lose control, so I’ll hurt my mate, to hurt _you_ and I’d rather die. Promise me you’ll put me down before it gets to that.”

“You’re not going to hurt me, Derek.” Stiles’s heart hurt at the pain in Derek’s voice, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. “Move over here and stick your hands through the bars.”

He could practically _see_ the wolf surfacing. Derek’s eyes got hazy and bled a deeper red. The wolf in him didn’t like the commanding tone in Stiles’s voice, but when the Spark moved to the side of the cage he followed, his step a predatory crawl. The Spark held the loop of rope out up and took a deep breath.

“Put your hands through, Der,” he said, baring his neck a little to soften the order, “please.”

There was something calculating in the Alpha-red eyes, and one hand went through the bars, but the second hesitated.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Alpha.” Stiles knew the wolf would hear the truth. He had no intention of harming him or letting him harm anyone else. Derek couldn’t live with yet more guilt. “Other hand, too? Please?”

The soft request worked, and the second clawed hand joined the first. Stiles grasped one wrist, looking in Derek’s eyes. “You’re not going to like this, but you’d like the other choices even less.” And with that, he slipped the rope around his wrists and commanded, “ _Capistrā́te_.”

It only took a second for the ‘wolf to recognize the rope, but for all his supernatural reflexes he wasn’t fast enough to beat the binding. The spider silk was Stiles’s most recent creation, and Derek had volunteered to help test it so the man, at least, knew that once it was in place there was no getting out of it without chopping off a body part. Stiles just hoped that Feral Derek didn’t decide that gnawing off a body part was actually an option. The way he was thrashing against the restraints and growling wasn’t encouraging.

“I can’t say I’ve never imagined you tied up naked before because I’m not that big of a liar, but this…? This wasn’t at all what I pictured.” Stiles shook his head at the ridiculousness of his life. “Now, let’s see what I can do about relieving some of that burning need you were talking about.”

The gate was heavy enough that without his spark he would never have been able to move it, but a lever of power allowed him to lift it enough to slither under it. Once free, he walked up behind the bound Alpha and wrapped his arms around him.

Stiles had always enjoyed the tactile nature of the ‘wolves around him. Pack and scenting and the bonds created by that closeness was something that soothed an ache in him that had been created when his mom died leaving him and his dad to figure out how to survive without her constant hugs and physical affection. Derek didn’t indulge as much as the others, still physically reserved after too many losses and betrayals, but Stiles knew that it comforted his wolf when he allowed it. Since he was currently unable to stop the Spark from hugging the fuck out of him, Stiles scented him thoroughly. He dragged his hands over Derek’s back and nape, rubbed his shoulders, and ran his fingers through the other man’s hair. He pressed his body fully against Derek’s back, imagining that this would be what it would be like to be the big spoon if the Alpha ever deigned to be cuddled, and he finally rested the point of his chin on one broad shoulder and rubbed his smooth cheek against Derek’s stubbled one, relieved to hear a somewhat pleased rumble rolling through the ‘wolf’s chest, only to have to jump back when that was followed by a sharp turn of the head and snap of the teeth. Fangs barely missed the curve of his cheek, scraping but not breaking the skin, and he cursed as he pulled away.

“Fuck, dude, watch the teeth! You know you can’t turn me, but I’ve got enough scars, I don’t need any on my face.”

Derek was muttering again, yanking against the spider silk. “Let me loose. Let me _loose_.” He shook the cage with his struggles and Stiles plastered himself along his back again.

“Let me make you feel good again, Der,” he whispered against Derek’s overheated skin. “You want that?” He slid his hands down until he reached the ‘wolf’s straining cock, the head purple and wet with his earlier come and more. From this angle is was easier, almost like stroking himself, and he made short work of it, alternating tight, short little strokes and long leisurely pumps as he rubbed soothing circles on Derek’s hip with his other hand.

The ‘wolf dropped his head back, a shuddering moan torn from his throat.

“So sensitive,” Stiles said, hand still working, “wonder if you’re always like this. Probably not, but that just means that you should enjoy it if you can. Screw the hunters.”

Just because this was being forced on him didn’t mean he should suffer, and Stiles was determined to make the whole thing as pleasurable as possible. Derek was going to agonize over it afterwards no matter what happened, so the best he could hope for was that he didn’t cross some line that made it impossible for them to go back to being friends, not to mention being able to ignore the simmering attraction that he’d felt for the older man for years.

Derek arched back into him, rolling his ass against Stiles’s hardening cock. “I can smell you.” He gutted out the words. “Smell like sex and want and mate and _mine_.”

Stiles groaned. “You can’t say things like that. You’re going to remember all of this tomorrow and you’re either going to push me away or want to kill me for seeing you like this.”

“You want it. Want me,” the ‘wolf snarled, apparently angry about it. Derek thrashed again and the spider silk dug a groove into his wrists, blood dripping on the floor of the cage, and he howled his rage at being restrained. Stiles realized he had to do something fast or the Alpha was going to actually hurt himself.

“Have you seen you?” Stiles flicked his thumb pulling a startled groan from the man in his arms. “A man would have to be blind or dead not to want you.”

“Never said.” The Spark couldn’t believe that even drugged to the gills Derek was arguing about this, so totally convinced no one could or should want him. 

“Didn’t want you to feel pressured, Der,” he said, nipping sharply at the top of his shoulder. “Just because I wanted you, didn’t mean you had to feel the same.”

Something snapped and the ‘wolf growled. “My mate. Always wanted you. Now I’m going to have you, take you,” he twisted his wrists away from each other and flicked his claws against the spider silk rope trying to saw through it even as it burned him.

“Stop, stop!” Stiles squeezed the cock in his hand almost brutally, dragging the ‘wolf’s attention away from the rope. “You want me? Prove it. You say I’m your mate? Fuck my hand like you mean it. Give me your come. I want fistfuls of it, I want to rub it all over myself, I want to lick it off my fingers.”

Derek froze in his arms and turned to flash his Alpha eyes back at him. “You… you aren’t lying.”

_Well, fuck._ There went any hope of getting out of this with his plausible deniability intact.

He redoubled his efforts, trying to at least cloud the moment with sex. He twisted his grip, stroking Derek in luxuriously slow, inexorable pulls. “Why would I lie about something like that? Now, are you going to come for me? Are you going to give your mate what he needs?”

Like flipping a switch, the ‘wolf started to move, snapping his hips forward with so much force that Stiles had to brace himself on the cage so he wouldn’t lose his grip. Derek pulled his arms back and gripped the bars at hip height like he was imagining holding Stiles’s hips as he fucked into him.

“God, just look at you. Huge. Practically dripping. Everything I could want. So strong, so good. Fuck, Derek, let me see it. Let me see how much you want me. Show me what it would be like to be split open by this big cock, fucked until I forgot my name, until I could only say your name. Come inside me again and again until I’m full of you, jizz dripping down my thighs, so everyone knows what we did, knows that you took me like this.”

Derek convulsed in Stiles’s hands, his body shaking, muscles drawn so tight that the bars bent in his grip, a litany of filth spilling from his lips just as what felt like a gallon of come spilled from his cock. _Mine, mine, mine. Taking me so well. Fill you with my come, mark your skin, paint your insides white with my come and then lick it back out again. Never let anyone else touch you. Kill anyone that tries. Rip them to shreds if they even look at you._

It should not have been nearly as hot as it was, but that seemed to be the way it always was with Derek. Everything about him was unfairly sexy. Stiles buried his face against the ‘wolf’s shoulder and rested there, only jerking to attention when the Alpha trembled in his arms and collapsed to the floor unconscious, naked legs splayed akimbo on the concrete, his dick still red and angry looking but flaccid for the moment.

Stiles eased the big body down until he was lying beside the cage, hands still bound but arms loose. It didn’t look comfortable, but it was better than things had been. Plus, it meant that he could take a moment and search the lab for anything that might be useful.

“If I were a hunter mad scientist, where would I keep the werewolf drugs?” He muttered under his breath. Hunters always had a back-up plan, and usually kept some sort of sedative on hand to take down supernaturals they didn’t want to have to actually fight. His attention was split between looking around, listening for returning bad guys, and making sure Derek didn’t wake up unattended, and when the Alpha began to stir, he knew he had to speed things along. He sent a pulse of energy out to check for traps and found a non-descript gray box in the corner, locked with a ward. It was the work of a second to shred the spell, and Stiles was pathetically happy to find elephant tranquilizers inside. At least the bastards were consistent.

“Okay Derek,” he said, hurrying back to friend’s side, “I know you hate these things, but they should keep you calm enough for us to get you out of here safely.” He jabbed the needle into the meatiest part of the Alpha’s ass and hoped that the double dose was enough to counteract the other medicine without causing further complications. He pulled out his phone and called Chris.

“Argent.”

“Stilinski,” Stiles snarked. “How far out are you?”

There was noise behind Chris. “We just disembarked. It should take us an hour and forty-five to get to your hotel.” Another pause. “Peter says he’s driving.”

That would cut quite a bit off their drive time. The older ‘wolf wouldn’t spare the horsepower and had the reflexes to handle it.

“Derek’s out for now, but they dosed him with something terrible. Like ecstasy but worse. And they messed with his mind somehow. Brainwashed him into thinking I was his mate.” He gritted his teeth. “It was beyond cruel, Chris. He was practically feral. They forced him into rut. If I hadn’t been able to restrain him, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

Peter said something in the background and Chris made a surprised noise. “You’re sure?”

“Sure about what?” Stiles asked. “What’d he say?”

There was a pause. “Peter says they didn’t mess with his mind.”

Derek made a whining noise behind him, and he turned to look at him. He was sweating, and he was half hard, but he was still out.

“You didn’t hear him, Chris.” He bit the inside of his lip trying to block out the memory of Derek’s heated claims. “He flat out _told_ me I was his mate. Said he needed to claim me. He was out of his mind.”

Peter spoke loudly enough that he could be heard over the phone. “Stiles, I’m not going to go into details, but I’m fairly confident that we won’t have to worry about deprogramming. You just need to keep him safe until the drugs are out of his system. Can you get him to the hotel by yourself?”

“I can move him, but you better have a damn good explanation when you get here, or we’re going to have a bigger problem than flushing a massive dose of werewolf molly out of his system. I’m not letting them get away with this, Chris. Derek shouldn’t have his choice of mate taken from him along with everything else hunters have stolen from him.”

The hunter sighed. “We’ll be there soon. Hang tight, and don’t let them circle back and track you to the hotel.”

Stiles looked at the cage with the pile of shredded clothes. “Probably too late to worry about that. They had a hoodie of mine from the hotel we stayed at two nights ago. I figure that they know where we set up base but going back is a risk I’m going to have to take. I can’t leave him unattended, and I can’t just drag a drugged naked werewolf into a new hotel to ask for a room.”

Stiles thought about the hunters and what he wanted to do to them. He _hoped_ they were stupid enough to attack him at the hotel. They wouldn’t live to make another mistake.

“Just watch your own backs and get here as soon as you can.” He glanced back at the shivering ‘wolf and set his jaw. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

***

Thank God hotel bed frames were metal. 

“Let me up, Stiles.” Derek thrashed against the spelled bindings holding him. Spread-eagled. On the bed. Stiles’s life was cruel and he didn’t deserve this. He was never going to be able to erase this image from his memory. 

“Open wide, Der.” He grabbed the Alpha’s jaw and levered his mouth open, pouring another vial of neutralizer down his throat. That was the fourth he’d dosed the ‘wolf with so far and he was running out. Hopefully, Peter and Chris had thought to pack more. “Your temperature is going down, but I want to make sure we’ve counteracted everything in your system.”

He looked down at his friend, who was beyond pissed at still being restrained, and patted his shoulder where it peeked out above the blankets. “I know this isn’t comfortable, but I just need you to be patient for a little longer. Okay? We have to make sure all of the,” he swallowed thickly, “side-effects are gone.”

A red flush rode high on Derek’s cheekbones, embarrassment flooding his system as soon as his faculties had started to return. “Just let me up. I can take care of myself from here on out. You don’t have to keep…”

_Touching you? Stroking your cock until you come all over yourself? Whisper that you’re a perfect mate, that you’re everything anyone could want?_ Stiles choked back a hysterical laugh at the irony of the whole situation. _Wanting to keep you like this forever so I can have you for myself?_

Fuck everyone that said he didn’t have a filter; he had an Olympic level filter. He could do this. “I’m your Emissary, Derek, I’m not going to leave my Alpha—my _friend_ —to ride out the worst drug trip _ever_ by himself.”

If Derek could have curled in on himself, he would have. There was frustration and anger and something that looked like despair in the rigid lines of his body as he strained against the spider silk rope.

“You said Peter and Chris will be here soon,” he wouldn’t meet Stiles’s gaze, but he gritted the words out. “I’ll be fine until they get here. I just… I need you to go, Stiles. Please. I know this was awful for you, but I didn’t think you’d be cruel.”

Stiles looked at him, confused. “Cruel? I’m not trying to be cruel, Der. I just want to take care of you. Make sure you’re okay. You said some things back there, things that weren’t right, things you’d never say if you were okay, so even if the physical effects are,” he looked at the still twitching lump of Derek’s cock under the light blanket and swallowed thickly, “ _lessening_ , we need to make sure that your head’s straight again before you do something you regret.”

Derek let out his own bitter laugh. “Regret? You have _no idea_ how many regrets I have right now, Stiles, but your being here is just making it so much worse. I’m trying, _God I’m trying_. You shouldn’t have to deal with me, with this. I’ve already crossed so many lines… _Fuck_.” He sounded almost broken and Stiles’s heart hurt in his chest. “I can smell you. I can smell _us,_ and I can’t stand it. Please, Stiles. Please just go.”

Stiles’s brain was running a mile a minute trying to parse through everything Derek was saying. He didn’t want the ‘wolf to feel like he’d crossed lines—there should be no lines between them—and he certainly didn’t want him to feel responsible for everything that had happened. They _both_ underestimated the hunters, and Derek had paid a terrible price for their ineptitude. But if his presence was making things worse, if the drugs were still hijacking his sex drive and the scent of mate, no matter how false that concept might be… Stiles wasn’t going to subject him to that kind of pain unnecessarily.

“Dude, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize you were still being messed with by the crazy fake mate thing.” He stood up and cast around the room, grabbing the open bottle of water beside the bed and angling the straw towards Derek’s mouth. “Take a couple of sips of this for me, and I’ll go sit in the hall or something and wait for Chris and Peter to get here. 

Derek arched up, the sheet slipping down to his waist, and Stiles couldn’t help but watch the play of muscles there. “The hall, Stiles? You could leave the fucking hotel and I’d still be able to heart your heartbeat. I could pick your scent out of a stadium of people.” He licked his lips, exposing a hint of fang. “There were nights when you were at Berkeley that I could _feel_ you jerking off, I could smell it like you were in the room with me. The first time it happened I was halfway to the city limits before I got my wolf back under control.” Derek bared his teeth in a predatory smile, eyes blown and black, and Stiles shivered. “I made it all the way to Fresno the first night you took that rugby player home with you.”

Stiles stared, the words washing over him in a hot wave. There was no way this could be true. _When he was at Berkeley_? He graduated three _years_ ago. He met Andrew when he was a _sophomore_ , for Christ’s sake.

“You’re saying,” he stumbled over the words, still struggling to come to grips with what Derek was saying, “that you’ve felt like this about me since I left for college?”

There was a screeching of metal, and suddenly the mattress crashed to the floor, the metal frame bent completely out of shape as Derek pulled the spider silk loops loose.

“No, Stiles,” he said darkly. He lunged forward and grabbed the Stiles’s wrist, pulling him down across his lap. “I’m saying I’ve felt like this since I caught you and Scott trespassing in the Preserve.”

The Spark jerked back, pulling futilely against the Alpha’s grip. Disbelief, anger, and longing fought for dominance in his mind as he searched for lies in the ‘wolf’s face and found none. He really was Derek’s _mate_. _He_ was Derek’s _mate_. “You never said anything. Why didn’t you say something?”

Derek leaned in close, his nose buried in the soft hollow under Stiles’s ear, and his hot breath sent shivers buzzing across his skin. “I was too broken. You were too young. You were vulnerable and being with a ‘wolf would have made you even more so. Then, you moved on. Dated. Were happy. You were my pack and my Emissary, and just that was better than I had any right to hope for.” He nipped at the tender skin of Stiles’s earlobe and his hot tongue traced lines of invisible fire down the side of his neck before pressing with the tip against his fluttering pulse like he could taste it. “You didn’t say anything either, but now…”

“Now what?” Stiles flinched at the breathlessness of his voice, but his pride wasn’t what he was concerned with right then.

“Now, I don’t have to hide it anymore. Now I know the truth.” Derek pressed the words into his skin like a brand. “You told me, remember? In the warehouse? You said you were mine; that you’d _always been mine_. Said you were just waiting for me.”

Suddenly the ‘wolf moved, flipping them so he loomed over him, and Stiles could feel his heart slamming against the cage of his ribs, his cock already more than half hard, his brain fizzing with possibilities that he’d never dared to entertain outside of midnight fantasies.

“I’ve denied the wolf its mate for years, Stiles, but I can’t… I can’t…” Derek sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, his whole body vibrating as he bullied his wolf into temporary submission. “If you don’t want this, don’t want _me_ , you have to go now. Don’t run.” Derek twisted his head to one side, his mouth twisted in a snarl, his eyes closed against the sight of the Spark under him. “If you run, I will chase you and catch you and…” the ‘wolf breathed through his mouth trying to catch his breath without drowning in the Stiles’s scent. “Just, don’t run.”

It was testament to how wrecked Derek sounded that Stiles didn’t immediately do what he was being told not to, but he knew the ‘wolf was still fighting off the effects of the hunters’ drug and didn’t want to push the Alpha into something he’d regret, no matter how much the thought of being chased and caught excited him. He reached up and cupped Derek’s jaw, rubbing the hinge with his thumb until the muscle there relaxed.

“Not running, Sourwolf,” he said, looking up at the older man. “I’m right where I want to be.”

It broke something, like a dam being washed away, and suddenly Stiles was swept up into strong arms. Derek ground his face into the join between his neck and shoulder, his beard rubbing until the skin was bright pink and sensitive, and the Spark could feel the bass rumble of the Alpha’s growl as it reverberated through his chest.

“ _Mine_.”

Stiles couldn’t stop the shudder that shook him, and the ‘wolf grinned with too many teeth against the meat of his throat. “You like that, don’t you? Like being mine. Want me to mount you and mark you. Fuck you like a bitch in heat, that pretty ass in the air, wanting to be split wide on my cock. You want your Alpha to fill you with come until it drips out of your hole, sloppy and sensitive. Want everyone to know who you belong to.”

Stiles groaned and threw his head back, stretching the long line of his neck in a tempting arch. “Ye-esss. _Fuck yes_ , Der. Yours.” The words were thin and breathless, but there was nothing but an aching truth in them. “Always been yours. Always _be_ yours.”

His head was spinning, the filthy words painting every picture he’d ever dreamed of.

“Turn over and show me that pretty hole.”

Stiles moved but not quickly enough. The ‘wolf wrapped a strong arm around his waist and hauled him onto his knees, his free hand popping the button open and pulling Stiles’s jeans down until his legs were trapped together at the knees.

“God the things I want to do to this ass.” Derek leaned in and breathed deep. “You smell so good. Always smell so good. Can’t wait to have you stretched around me. I’ve dreamed of fucking you hard with my teeth in your neck. But first, I want to taste you. Fuck you with my tongue. Make you beg.” He dragged a thumb over the tight furl, gently tugging, and then dipped in and dragged his tongue over Stiles’s sensitive rim. “Make you cry you want it so bad.”

Stiles arched up trying to get more of Derek’s thumb in him, aching with the need for something, anything, in him. “Yes,” he said. “Please. Please, Derek, I need…”

The thumb disappeared and he whined, rocking his hips back in shameless supplication, and then there was Derek’s tongue, hot and wet and insistent prodding at his hole.

“Need?” The wolf stabs and circles, spit dripping from his chin before pushing his thumb back in between licks. “You have no idea what it’s like to need. But I’m going to teach you. Make you howl for it like my wolf has howled for you. For its mate.”

Stiles shakes and shudders under the onslaught. “I didn’t know. You didn’t _say_.”

His hole was being teased sloppily wet and open, and he looked back to see Derek staring up at him over the curve of his ass, eyes burning Alpha red and fangs dropped to drag and catch on the gathered skin. It was more than he could take. He reached back and grabbed at Derek’s hair, trying to pull him closer, but the ‘wolf wasn’t having it. He growled and nipped the flushed skin of one buttock, leaving a perfect set of fang marks that Stiles would feel for days.

“Please.” He was begging but he didn’t care. “Alpha. Please.”

The Alpha liked that, adding a finger along with his thumb, licking between them and muttering. “My mate. So hungry. So needy. Perfect for me. Going to fuck you soon. You want that, don’t you? Want me to bend you over and fuck you until you don’t know anything but me, the feel of me, the smell of me, the stretch of me.”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded against the pillows. He wanted that. Wanted all of that. His spark was stirring, and he could feel his Emissary bond burning in his chest, glowing brightly in his mind’s eye. He couldn’t wait for Derek to add a mate bond to the ties between them. “Fuck me, Derek. There’s slick in my bag. Please. Hurry.”

Derek growled, the Alpha didn’t like being ordered around, but he pulled away long enough to dump Stiles’s bag on the hotel room floor, rummaging with one hand until he found the little bottle.

“Did you expect to need this?” There was a darkly accusatory tone to the ‘wolf’s question as he poured the liquid over his fingers and knelt back up behind Stiles on the bed. “Were you going to pick up someone to fuck? Drag them back to your room with me right next door? You know I’d have heard you. I’ve heard you before. Listened to you with that guy last year in Reno. Hotel walls aren’t as thick as they should be. You asked the next day if I’d gotten lucky, but you were the lucky one—lucky I didn’t storm into your room and tear the guy to pieces. But I didn’t. I sat there on my cold bed, pumping into my fist as you let that bastard fuck you. The sounds you make… _fuck_.” He groaned and pressed a finger into Stiles’s hole. “No, I laid there and listened to you telling him what to do, how to fuck you, and then I smelled your come and bit through my pillow trying to stay quiet, knowing the whole time that it should have been me. I could fuck you better. Fuck you until you couldn’t even string a sentence together. You’re my mate. _Mine_.” A second finger joined the first, and then quickly a third, twisting and stroking, searching out that spot that made all Stiles’s nerves light up.

“Wasn’t looking for anyone. Haven’t been,” he bit his lip on a strangled cry as Derek stretched him a little more viciously, prodded at his prostate a little more insistently, “for a while. Didn’t want them.”

“That’s right, baby,” he said on a satisfied rumble, “no one can satisfy you like I can. Look at your hole, sucking my fingers in. So hungry for me. So fucking pretty. Going to wreck it. Going to fuck it until it remembers the shape of me.”

Derek fell on him then, forcing his face to the side so he could plunder Stiles’s mouth. Their lips moved together, sliding and wet and hot, and it was everything he’d ever imagined and more. He wanted to delve into the ‘wolf’s mouth, to find its secret corners, to lick up his taste and map his teeth. He lunged into the kiss, sucking Derek’s bottom lip into his mouth, and his heart fluttered in his chest as his Alpha moaned.

“Fucking tease,” he growled, nipping Stiles’s lip harsh enough to break the skin and then chasing the drops of blood.

“Not teasing,” he forced the words out on a whine as Derek’s fingers slipped out of him, leaving him open and aching. “Wanted you to notice me but didn’t mean to tease.”

The blunt head of Derek’s cock dragged across his sensitive hole, the edge catching as it passed. “Showing off for your Alpha. Showing what a good mate you’d be. Can you take Alpha cock, though?” Derek rocked his hips and Stiles hissed as it popped just past the rim and he arched his hips inviting more. Slowly the Alpha slid his whole length in, and the Spark’s eyes rolled back in his head. Derek’s cock was huge, endless, filling Stiles completely until he could feel heavy balls bounce against his ass. Then it was all in—fuck he’d fit that entire Alpha cock inside him—and he was so full he could feel it all the way the back of his throat.

The ‘wolf howled then, deep and feral, and Stiles could only hope that the walls were thick enough to keep the other occupants of the hotel from hearing them. He didn’t feel like explaining to the cops that no, he wasn’t hiding a large dog, and yes, those are bite marks and bruises, but they were entirely consensual.

“ _Mine_.” Derek draped his body over the shivering Spark, keeping the smaller man pinned on his cock, his weight so much that it should be smothering, but Stiles reveled in it, thrilled at finally being claimed by the ‘wolf he’d wanted for so long. “Never should have waited. Should have claimed you the night I found you, bred you and knotted you and kept you full of my come.”

Stiles whimpered at the thought. It shouldn’t be sexy. He’d always demanded his partners use condoms—he’d had enough lectures from the sheriff about safe sex for it to be second nature—but the thought of Derek’s come, his Alpha’s come, filling his ass, leaking out around his cock as he fucked into him brutal and demanding… well, that was a kink he never knew he had but was definitely willing to embrace.

He felt the ‘wolf grin against the back of his neck. “You like that idea, too. I can smell it. Good.”

“Fuck yes,” Stiles groaned, raising his hips in a silent invitation, Derek’s cock pressing deeper than anyone had ever gone before. “Fill me up. Mark me inside and out. Make sure everyone knows I’m yours. Please.”

His nerves came alive as Derek fucked into him. The stretch and burn left him breathless and his cock bounced against his belly as the ‘wolf stroked into him so hard it was all he could do to keep his balance.

It felt so good to give in like this, to let the ‘wolf take what it wanted, to know that the man he’d bound himself to as Emissary wanted more—wanted all of him—and he wanted to give all of himself, to be claimed as the Alpha’s mate.

“Fuck Stiles, you feel so good. Being so good for me. Such a good mate, presenting like a pretty little bitch for me to take. Going to keep you like this. Never going to let you off my cock. Going to make you come so hard you’re going to cry for mercy.” He reached around and gripped Stiles’s dick, rolling his thumb over the slit as he squeezed precome out to slick his fist. He started to stroke, first slow and insistent, pulling a low groan from the Spark, and then faster, until the human could feel his orgasm bearing down on him like a locomotive. “You’ve run with wolves long enough to know, though. We aren’t known for mercy.”

Stiles was so sensitive. Derek’s cock was carving a space inside him, leaving an aching void every time he pulled back. The rough hand around his length alternated between sweet strokes and vise-tight pumps, dragging him to the edge and then cutting off his orgasm every time it threatened, but the ‘wolf never flagged. He was driven by the need to claim, to mate, to mark, pulling Stiles along on wave after wave of sensation, until he was a sobbing mess, his cock drooling onto the sheets beneath him, body shaking and ass fucked raw.

“God, baby,” Derek sounded like himself for a moment, his lips hot and wet as he mouthed the back of Stiles’s neck. “Gonna come. Going to fill your gorgeous ass so much you’re going to be dripping with me for days.”

He nuzzled under Stiles’s ear, pushing the sweat-damp hair away from the skin and placing his teeth along the tendon. “Want to bite you. Claim. Say yes. Be my mate, my mate, my only. My Stiles. Say yes.” He sank his fangs a little further into the skin, worrying it back and forth until there would be a mean little mark even if he didn’t set his claim there.

Stiles pulled himself back from the edge once more, his consciousness fuzzy but there. “Yes. Do it. Bite me. Finish the claim. I want you to.”

He turned his head just enough to meet Derek’s eyes, red irises burning with lust and want and things that he didn’t even have words for, and nodded once, feeling the movement pull the skin under the ‘wolf’s teeth. “Come on. Come on, come on! Do it.” Stiles didn’t care that he sounded desperate. He just _needed_. The hand on his cock sped up and he felt a rumble of something from the ‘wolf and he knew they were almost at the finish line.

“Next time I’m going to hold you up and fuck you against the wall so hard you’ll have my bruises on you for days. Going to jerk your cock. Going to make you come on my knot. Fill your ass up so tight you fucking scream for me.” Derek’s hips pistoned against him, cock ramming against his prostate. “But now I need you to come with me, baby. Feel my knot? That’s right. Come with me. Right. Now.”

Stiles was flying, the taste of copper in his mouth where he’d bitten himself, head thrown back in a silent scream as Derek’s knot swelled, stretching his ass until the skin was thin and tight and hot. Come pulsed in ribbons under him as a now-clawed hand loosely gripped his dick, and surprise if that didn’t make him twitch harder, adding another strand of sticky white across the sheets.

Sharp teeth pierced his skin at the vulnerable hollow of his throat, the only thing between him and bleeding out after having his jugular punctured being his Alpha’s iron control. Stiles could feel Derek seizing with his own orgasm, the hot wave of come heavy inside him as it filled him, the knot stretching him pulsing with their matched heartbeats. He could feel it in his skin, could feel the pulse of his spark as it reached out and seized the magic of the mate bite, braiding the amber gold of his power through and around it, like it wanted nothing more than to possess and protect the bond forever. Everything was a rush of magic and _DerekDerekDerek_ that was so overwhelming he didn’t know if he’d survive, but if he didn’t, he knew he’d die complete.

“So perfect,” the ‘wolf licked across the mate bite sending another wave of shivers through the Spark, the little convulsion tightened him around Derek’s knot wringing a whine from the ‘wolf. “Took me so well. Mine. Look so good on my knot. In my arms.” He pressed a line of hot kisses against Stiles’s jaw. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I’m not sorry that you’re mine now.”

“Not sorry,” Stiles replied, patting the arm around his waist. “Happy. Tired, but very, very happy.” He let the ‘wolf roll them onto their sides, enjoying the warmth and closeness of being tied to his mate. He made a pleased noise deep in his chest. He knew Derek would struggle with the claim in the coming days; the ‘wolf was a martyr on the best of days, and this had not been the best of days. Stiles also knew, though, that if Derek’s wolf had chosen him _before_ the hunters had drugged him, they’d be fine. He suspected Peter had known about the unfulfilled mate bond and that was what he had meant when he said they wouldn’t need to deprogram Derek after all. He’d take that up with Uncle Creepy later; keeping secrets from your Emissary was a bad idea. But that could wait… after all, they now had all the time in the world.

***

“So, you’re saying this whole attack was aimed at me?” Chris’s fingers were white where they gripped his beer bottle too tightly. Peter’s hand was on his shoulder rubbing soothing little circles, but Derek could tell they were both worried. He was worried, too. Even now, after claiming his mate and having more sex in the past twenty-four hours than he’d had in the past twelve months he could still feel the almost feral drive to _take, claim, bite, mark…_ He struggled to stifle a growl.

“Well, yes. I mean, there was the whole “start a war between humans and werewolves” thing, but I got the impression that that was just a bonus for him. I might have lost some of the details, but the asshole enjoyed monologuing. I just worry that he’ll try again, and strike more directly at you or Uncle Peter since this plan didn’t pan out the way he wanted.”

Derek could only thank the powers that it hadn’t. He reached out and squeezed Stiles’s hand. The thought of hurting him, of possibly killing his mate… he wouldn’t have survived it, even if Chris hadn’t managed to put him down.

“So, we’ll find him.” Peter managed to sound calm and blood-thirsty at the same time. The Left-Hand of the Hales was definitely in play; no one threatened those Peter cared about with impunity. “We find him and kill him and make anyone that helped him pay a high enough price that no one will ever try again.”

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand back, a vicious little smile on his face. “I managed to take a few things from the warehouse that should help us track them down. I was invested before, but now… now it’s personal. That asshole is going to regret ever hearing the name Hale, and then… Well, then he isn’t going to do much more than fertilize a nice patch of desert. Maybe feed a few vultures. Give back to Nature, you know?”

Derek’s wolf preened and strutted in the back of his head, proud of his blood-thirsty pack. Proud of his protective mate.

Chris looked at them, raising the bottle and taking a deep swallow. “I know it doesn’t even begin to cover things, but I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you’ve been dragged into this. The Argents owe you a debt we can never repay, Derek, but I promise I will make sure this man and his crew will never hurt you or your pack again.”

Derek shook his head and met his uncle’s eyes, blue flashing with red. Chris still didn’t get it. “You’re pack, Chris. He isn’t going to hurt any of us, including you. You’ve suffered at the hands of hunters, too.”

A wave of affection rolled off his mate and he could feel the mate-bond vibrate with pride and satisfaction. They were the Hale Pack, and they protected their own.


End file.
